


Good Behaviour

by linndechir



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, First Time, Kneeling, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: The first time Jonathan sees McCullum in a private moment is entirely accidental. He has no such excuse for all the other times he's watched him since.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 8
Kudos: 173
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Good Behaviour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



Jonathan had always thought of himself as a quite moral person. He’d become a doctor not merely out of personal interest, but also because he cared about helping people rather than lazing about and spending his family’s wealth, and he’d always tried his best to be decent and helpful to his fellow man. Of course he’d made professional mistakes like any doctor, and he’d done some things during the war that he might have done differently in hindsight. And of course there was his dearest Mary, though despite all his lingering guilt he was quite aware that his failing her had not been entirely his own fault – he could reprimand himself for a lack of self-discipline and control, surely, but there hadn’t been any malice in what he’d done to her. The point was that for the most part of his life, Jonathan hadn’t done a lot he felt he had cause to be ashamed of. Small indiscretions, minor missteps, but few things that made him wonder if, maybe, he wasn’t the decent man he wanted to be.

But this? This he felt ashamed of. Not the desire for it – he’d long stopped feeling guilty for his attraction to men, something he was sure was quite natural and, even if it were unnatural, certainly not harmful to anyone – but the fact that he indulged in this specific desire. That he so invaded the privacy of a man who didn’t trust him, didn’t like him, didn’t want him near. Who’d be mortified if he knew that Jonathan had witnessed him in such an intimate moment. It would have ruined what little trust was starting to grow between them, and rightly so. A better man wouldn’t put his own gratification above his morals like this.

In his defence, the first time had been entirely accidental. He’d headed to the abandoned storehouse Priwen used as their headquarters these days with the perfectly acceptable intent of talking to McCullum about a drained corpse he’d found on one of his nightly patrols – to ask if Priwen was aware of the problem, if anything was already being done about it. And yes, maybe he had planned to startle him a little, easily making his way up to the second floor where McCullum stayed – a private room in an old office, the small luxury his status as leader of the guard afforded him – and planning to slip in through the window. A harmless little prank, perhaps childish, but the man _had_ tried to kill Jonathan. He felt like he was entitled to a small measure of payback.

He’d seen McCullum’s blood through the wall, had seen him lying on his bed, though his heartbeat was quite obviously too fast for him to be sleeping. And before he’d looked closer, before he’d seen just where his blood was pooling, Jonathan had sneaked closer to the window and looked inside. McCullum had been on his back, shirtless, his trousers rucked down over his hips, his eyes closed and his right hand – Jonathan’s mouth watered at the sight of strong fingers wrapping around what was a much larger prick than he would have expected, if he’d ever considered the question before. Long and thick and flush with blood, though for once it wasn’t hunger that made Jonathan feel dizzy with want.

He should have left then. Taken a walk, come back half an hour later when McCullum had had time to finish and to put himself back together, and never mentioned it in any way. But Jonathan hadn’t slept with anyone since … God, since his last furlough during the war, hadn’t felt another man’s touch, had barely even been in the right mood to touch himself. He’d been quite lonely, and whatever else McCullum was, he was devilishly attractive. His skin was as pale as Jonathan’s in the moonlight, his muscles were strong and defined after a lifetime of war, his cock was beautiful and moist at the tip as if inviting Jonathan to come closer and taste him, and without its usual frown, McCullum’s face was temptingly handsome, lips parted in a quiet, almost soundless moan. It wasn’t that Jonathan had never noticed it before, but the fact had never struck him with such intensity. That McCullum wasn’t just a dogged, fearsome hunter, a dangerous enemy and at times a helpful ally, but a man, with human desires he clearly lacked the company to indulge in … 

So Jonathan stayed where he was, and he watched. He watched as McCullum’s hand sped up until his breath came in ragged gasps, and then slowed down again, and Jonathan never would have thought he’d be the type to _savour_ this. To take a slow, deep breath, fingers ghosting over his testicles, his other hand thumbing idly at his nipple as if he couldn’t quite decide if he felt like touching himself there just now or not. His heart was racing in his chest, pumping blood into every cell of his body, into that beautiful cock that Jonathan wanted to get his tongue on more than his teeth. He wondered what McCullum was thinking about – he couldn’t imagine what his fantasies would be like, what a man such as McCullum would envision for a perfect night, _who_ he’d imagine touching him. One of those fierce, strong women Priwen had a few of, who weren’t afraid to pick up a gun and fight for themselves? Or a dainty young lady who’d never allow herself to be seen with an Irish ruffian? Or maybe a slender, beardless boy, if that’s where his preferences ran, or – Jonathan tried to stop imagining _other_ men McCullum could possibly like, because it was entirely irrelevant. Even if Jonathan were the very picture McCullum conjured in his dirtiest dreams, he’d probably rather remove his offending member than ever let a leech touch it.

But Jonathan still watched, and bit his own lip bloody to remain silent when McCullum finally spilt himself over his hand. He lay there panting – still impressively quiet, a habit probably born out of a life spent in close quarters with others – and fondling himself a little, and then he raised his hand to his lips to taste himself, only a few licks before he grimaced and wiped his hand on a handkerchief. Something like shame crossed his face at that moment, but then he turned to the side and Jonathan couldn’t see his face anymore as McCullum went to clean himself up.

He finally left then, painfully hard himself and profoundly ashamed of intruding in such a way. Of watching something that had not been meant for anyone’s eyes, least of all for his. He took a walk until his guilt did away with his more pressing problem, and by the time he returned to the storehouse, McCullum was dressed and reading at an old desk. It almost made Jonathan laugh that he hadn’t gone to sleep. He was more nocturnal than Jonathan himself. So Jonathan went and talked to him, gave him what information he had and took an odd sense of solace in the fact that McCullum assured him Priwen would take care of whatever “dirty bloodsucker” had killed that poor beggar, and then he went on to Pembroke for his night shift.

A lapse of judgement. A shameful but minor infraction. Something that would most certainly not happen again. 

And it didn’t for some time, but as Jonathan had to realise, this was only due to a lack of opportunity. He didn’t see McCullum _that_ often – although between vampire-related issues that Jonathan preferred letting Priwen deal with rather than hunt himself, and McCullum demanding rather than asking for his help with injuries more than once, for himself as well as for his men, they did keep in touch somewhat regularly – and of course most of the time he did not catch McCullum in such a private moment. More often he found him out on patrol, or reading through reports, or doing research in old dusty tomes while cursing to himself, or quite often simply sharing a drink and chatting with the other members of the guard. That was maybe the oddest thing Jonathan discovered about him – that gruff, rude McCullum seemed like a quite congenial, pleasant fellow towards people who weren’t Jonathan.

But about a month after the first incident, Jonathan did get another chance. A moment quite similar to the first, and this time, when he looked through the window, he saw McCullum sitting upright on his bed, head bowed and eyes pressed shut as he fisted his prick so roughly Jonathan imagined it to be almost unpleasant. As if he resented his own body for distracting him in such a way, or maybe as if he resented his mind for what it thought while he was doing it. And Jonathan watched him again, same as he had done that first time, cloaked in shadows outside his window, forcing himself to stay quiet, cursing himself for disrespecting McCullum’s privacy so selfishly and yet unable to tear himself away, from committing every sight, every sound, every scent that filled his nose to memory, filed away to be thought about again later when Jonathan put a hand to himself in his own bed. When he imagined it was McCullum’s rough fingers touching him, when he imagined that big cock pushing against his entrance, when he imagined his rapid pulse and his hot skin under Jonathan’s cold lips. Oh, if he’d had trouble before imagining McCullum in such a private, relaxed, needy state, now his mind had no difficulties at all conjuring up more and more ideas of what he might like, how he’d react with a hand other than his own touching him.

So Jonathan watched him that night, and again a few weeks later, and after that he couldn’t deny that he started going by the storehouse on his way to Pembroke Hospital, catching McCullum at an early evening hour, which was apparently when he was quite likely to indulge in this private pleasure. Jonathan still didn’t catch him at it more often than not – McCullum wasn’t a soldier, he didn’t keep precise hours and Priwen’s work didn’t allow for too many routines – but he could no longer pretend that he didn’t make a bit of an effort to catch him sometimes. No more than a dozen times over months, and every time he tried to convince himself it was the last time. But by then McCullum filled his thoughts almost every time he touched himself, and for all of his professionalism Jonathan had a harder time keeping his hands from lingering whenever he took care of McCullum’s wounds now. 

It was shameful, beneath him, and yet in the grand scheme of things probably still a rather harmless sin – if only it had remained hidden. But summer came, and with it open windows to let in some cool night air after the stuffy heat of a London summer day. And suddenly Jonathan’s little perch on a scaffold outside the building didn’t offer quite as good a view anymore, and he shifted until he found a different spot, and then he realised his mistake when McCullum’s right hand shot towards the nightstand, grabbed the gun lying there and pointed it at the window. He was fast, almost preternaturally so, and Jonathan had long stopped underestimating him.

“Whatever you are, get in here where I can see you,” he snarled, and even now Jonathan was almost impressed by how threatening he managed to sound, despite his breathlessness. He could have simply left – McCullum was fast, but Jonathan was faster, and he could have easily disappeared without McCullum ever being the wiser. But then he would have worried about whatever it was that had tracked him back to his base, to where he _slept_ , and then he probably would have wasted quite a bit of Priwen’s limited resources to move their headquarters to somewhere that wasn’t being stalked by unseen vampires.

So Jonathan swallowed his pride, slipped through the shadows until he materialised again inside of McCullum’s room, as far away from the bed as possible. It was very dim inside, almost dark except for the moonlight falling in through the window. Just enough to see McCullum’s blue eyes narrowing, enough to see his pale skin shine in the moonlight, his cock still out and no less hard than before.

“Reid,” he said, voice full of surprise and confusion and, maybe, a hint of relief that it wasn’t anyone trying to kill him while he had, quite literally, his trousers around his ankles. “What the – what are you doing here?”

“My apologies,” Jonathan said. He tried not to look at him, or at least not at his exposed skin, but his gaze kept straying back to what he’d come to see. “I didn’t know …”

He trailed off. Somehow lying about this all made it feel even more ignominious than merely doing it. He sighed.

“You did ask me to come in. It would probably be preferable for us both if I left again, hm?”

McCullum was watching him with hard eyes, the gun firmly pointed at Jonathan’s head now. He’d seen it in action – a vicious thing with far more firepower than one would expect from a weapon that size. At this distance, he’d seen it take half a skal’s head off. Jonathan wasn’t entirely sure if he could survive such an injury, but even if he did, it would be exceedingly painful. And probably still deadly in the end, because if McCullum took that shot, he wouldn’t stop there.

“Were you watching me?” he asked, and again Jonathan would have been more ashamed of a lie than of the truth. Maybe he should get out of here before McCullum started a fight, and for once not even without reason. The last thing he expected was for McCullum to laugh suddenly, a sharp, mocking little sound. “Dr. Reid, who would have thought?”

He looked _amused_ and a little wild when Jonathan met his eyes again, and then his left hand … it returned to his own skin, brushing over his stomach before it settled on his cock again. Jonathan swallowed and remained where he was, watching as if transfixed when McCullum wrapped his fingers around his cock and stroked it slowly. The movement looked a little awkward, as if he rarely ever did this with his left hand, but the right still kept the gun aimed at Jonathan’s head.

“Is that what you wanted to see, leech?” When McCullum spoke again, his voice was thick with want, and quiet as if he feared anyone would overhear them. Had it always been so low or did it only sound that way to Jonathan’s ears now, in the darkness of the room and the quiet of the night? Maybe he shouldn’t have replied, shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“Yes,” he confessed, and McCullum smiled again. There was something more predatory in that smile than anything Jonathan thought had ever appeared on his own face. Vampire or not, around McCullum he always felt more like prey than anything else. The knowledge that he could defeat him if it came to it didn’t change that.

“Do you only want to watch?” McCullum asked a few strokes later and his hand stilled, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock. A trick question, surely. And yet the gun wasn’t being fired and he hadn’t told Jonathan to leave, and there was certainly no sensible reason for McCullum to be giving him a show. 

“No,” Jonathan said. He rubbed the palm of his hand against his coat, stretched his fingers as if in anticipation. If he were allowed to touch him … but surely McCullum couldn’t want that.

“Good.” Again McCullum smiled that hard smile, and stopped touching himself, and waved the gun lightly. “Get on your knees.”

Jonathan was still several feet away from him, and yet he had a feeling that walking over first was not what McCullum wanted – that he wouldn’t take kindly to having his orders interpreted too creatively. Still Jonathan shrugged out of his coat first and threw it over the nearby chair before he sank to his knees on the uneven wooden floor.

“Good,” McCullum said again, and left Jonathan there for a few moments, looking at him, looking at Jonathan staring back at him so very eagerly. “Now come here.”

It should have felt ridiculous, crawling over the floor on his knees, even if it wasn’t very far, but all Jonathan felt was eager and curious and desperately hopeful that this wasn’t some game to humiliate him, to taunt him with what he wanted and then send him away before he could have it. When he was near enough that McCullum’s scent – the blood in his veins and the sweat on his skin and the pre-ejaculate on his cock – filled his senses to the brim, McCullum reached out and ran his fingers through Jonathan’s hair. Grabbed it, pulled a bit until Jonathan bent his head to the side, and then McCullum pressed the cold muzzle of his gun against Jonathan’s temple. 

“If you think about biting me, if your teeth even graze me, I’ll take your head off, is that clear? You can prove to me what a well-behaved leech you are.”

The words sent a shudder through Jonathan’s body and he nodded eagerly, not quite trusting his voice to sound like it should. It had been so long since he’s touched anyone in a … private rather than a professional manner. Since he’s touched out of desire rather than concern. He’d spent months yearning for this, never even dreaming that he would get what he wanted. The gun against his head seemed inconsequential compared to that.

Jonathan leant in ever so slowly, still waiting for McCullum to laugh and shove him away, until his lips finally brushed over the flushed tip of McCullum’s cock. The taste was as heady as he remembered it from such encounters when he’d been human, even though Jonathan had no doubt that swallowing it would end up quite unpleasant. When McCullum didn’t say anything, Jonathan dared to part his lips, to kiss the tip lightly before he licked slowly over it. He heard McCullum’s breath catch, felt the sharp spike in his pulse. Encouraged, Jonathan licked it again, less tentatively this time, once more over the head and then all along its length, lips and tongue exploring that beautiful, big cock that had been on his mind for far too long.

McCullum let him take his time, let him explore, though with his mouth only – when Jonathan raised a hand to touch him, McCullum clicked his tongue and tapped the gun muzzle against Jonathan’s head, so Jonathan kept his hands to himself, folded them behind his back to remove the temptation. That got him a gratifyingly loud intake of breath, though not half as loud as the sound McCullum made when Jonathan wrapped his lips around his cock.

Jonathan had thought he knew every possible noise from McCullum’s lips by now, but he sounded different when it wasn’t his own hand pleasuring him – more impatient, less controlled, a desperate urgency in his gasps and the twitching of his muscles that hadn’t been there before. It was a little tricky, to make sure that his fangs never grazed McCullum’s flesh – and he so _wanted_ to graze it, to nick him just enough to taste his blood – but he knew better than to disregard McCullum’s threats. It made it somewhat awkward, especially since he was quite out of practice, but there was also an odd thrill to how hard he had to try to get it right. It reminded him a bit of his youth, of eager inexperience and embarrassed laughter. There was no laughter here, but he was clearly doing something right because McCullum’s breath was ragged, and his legs kept tensing up, and he was biting his lip to keep quiet.

Jonathan took him in as deep as he could without accidentally hurting him, and that’s when McCullum grabbed his hair – the same hand that still held the gun, pressing the grip uncomfortably against the back of Jonathan’s head while his fingers dug into his scalp, the muzzle harmless pointing away to the side, but McCullum had clearly forgotten about all the reasons he shouldn’t trust a vampire’s teeth near his cock. Not that he had any reason to worry with Jonathan, not when for once blood was … the second thing on his mind. McCullum’s grip tightened when he came into Jonathan’s mouth, and then loosened enough for Jonathan to pull back.

He knew better than to swallow, but in an attempt to avoid that he ended up with more of McCullum’s come on his tongue rather than down his throat, and a few drops spilt past his lips and into his beard. He looked around for something suitable, grabbed an empty mug from the nightstand and spat into it, though he took a last moment to enjoy the thick texture and the taste on his tongue before he did.

“Really, Reid?” McCullum asked, but he was breathless with pleasure and sounded more amused than annoyed. He looked beautifully relaxed, legs stretched out and his eyes half-closed, and once again Jonathan was struck by just how much he wanted to touch every inch of him, to taste him and have him in every way he could imagine.

“Would you prefer I swallow it and then vomit it out again?” Jonathan asked. He’d shifted to sit on the wooden floor, his own trousers tented, and looked up at McCullum. Even in the darkness Jonathan could see the flush of his blood in his cheeks, the hammering of his heartbeat.

“As long as you don’t do it in my room, I don’t care if you behave like a cat with a hairball.” McCullum reached down to run his thumb over Jonathan’s cheek, gathering a drop of come from the corner of his mouth before he rubbed it over Jonathan’s lips. “You know, I thought it had to be a cliché that all you toffs are secretly perverts.”

Jonathan laughed, and his laugh turned into a gasp when McCullum nudged his clothed cock with his still booted foot. He hadn’t noticed that before, that he was still wearing boots even though he was shirtless, and now the firm sensation made him shudder.

“I wouldn’t consider this particularly perverted. You’d have to do far worse to shock me, if that was your intent.”

“Not particularly, no.” McCullum gave him a thoughtful look and then finally put down the gun – still within reach, of course, although Jonathan doubted McCullum ever did _anything_ without a weapon in reach. His boot still nudged Jonathan’s cock, and he looked almost delighted when Jonathan shifted against it. “Was there anything else you wanted or did you just come by to … see me?”

“There … there wasn’t really any other reason, no.” Jonathan felt that by now almost familiar guilt rise up again, though it was somewhat tampered by the fact that McCullum seemed far less angry than Jonathan would have expected. He licked his lips again, tasting him, wondering if McCullum would let him taste his lips as well, and the bared skin of his chest, and … “There is something else I want now, though.”

“Oh, I can tell, Reid.” McCullum laughed again, and Jonathan realised he wouldn’t mind getting used to that sound. To seeing this side of him – not only his arousal, that was, but his smiles and his laughter and this downright friendly tone. As if he wasn’t speaking to a hated leech, but to something almost like a friend. 

Once again McCullum ran his fingers through Jonathan’s hair, tugged on it and smiled when Jonathan moaned softly. When Jonathan turned his head to kiss the inside of McCullum’s forearm, he marvelled at just how thin his skin seemed to feel, how strong his pulse felt underneath it. Just one little bit and he’d – 

McCullum yanked on his hair then and Jonathan realised too late that his upper lip had pulled up of its own accord, fangs bared hungrily.

“You need a few more lessons in good behaviour first, leech,” McCullum said. Jonathan blinked as he came back to himself, the fog of blood lifting from his mind, and then he realised that McCullum still didn’t sound quite as aggressive as usual. As if he hadn’t been all that worried that Jonathan would actually bite down.

But he still stopped touching him, the heat of his body suddenly gone as he got to his feet and stepped aside, hands quickly pulling up his trousers and tucking himself back in before he picked up a worn shirt from the bed.

“That didn’t count as good behaviour?” Jonathan asked tentatively, but there was a finality to McCullum’s movements that didn’t leave him much hope.

“Well, it was a good start. But I’ve got work to do, you see? And I’m fairly certain you have lots of adoring patients waiting for you.”

Jonathan sighed in frustration, but the truth was that it didn’t feel entirely undeserved – actually a far too small punishment for his invasion of McCullum’s privacy, and he’d still got more out of it than he’d ever truly hoped for. It wouldn’t be the first night he’d need the walk to the Pembroke to cool off before he got to work. He got to his feet in a quick motion, and tried not to smile at that flash of a frown that seemed to show up on McCullum’s face every time he was suddenly reminded how much taller than him Jonathan was.

“I suppose in that case I shouldn’t keep you,” Jonathan said. They were standing so very close, and Jonathan was almost tempted to lean in and kiss him. Very tempted, even, but he couldn’t tell just how much of this had been some kind of power game for McCullum, or his idea of revenge, and how much had been actual desire for Jonathan’s company.

“No, you shouldn’t,” McCullum said, but he didn’t move away. Stayed right where he was, closer to Jonathan than he was to the gun on the nightstand. His eyes didn’t leave Jonathan’s and he reached up and touched his lips again, rubbed his thumb over them until they parted for him, and then he lightly touched one of Jonathan’s fangs. Careful not to prick himself, of course, but still – if Jonathan chose to bite him now, he’d never get away in time. It had to be like reaching into a lion’s maw for him. 

McCullum looked like he wanted to say something and couldn’t quite think of the right words, and when he finally started speaking, he sounded far more uncertain than before.

“But if you make a habit of walking to your hospital … There’s nothing wrong with taking the same route.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but smile, no matter how much that bared his fangs at McCullum, who still kept … caressing one of them, there was no other word for it.

“So you can teach me more about good behaviour, you mean?” he asked, failing entirely to sound innocent. 

“Something like that, yes.” McCullum looked almost relieved that he didn’t have to say it himself. “And maybe next time I’ll feel more … generous.”

“I certainly hope so.” 

And to hell with it, Jonathan thought, because he’d already had more from McCullum than he ever would have thought possible, so he leant in and kissed him – not for long, no, just pressing his lips for a too short moment against McCullum’s, feeling the scratch of his stubble and the gasp of his breath and the warm blood in his lips, and the desire in the way McCullum surged back against him just as Jonathan pulled away.

“Until tomorrow then,” Jonathan said and gave him a last smile, before he was out of the window in a flash of shadows, onto the scaffold and from there down to the street mere seconds later. But even from down here he could hear McCullum cursing quietly to himself, calling him a “damned leech” in a tone that sounded entirely too fond.

Despite the slight discomfort, Jonathan had a spring in his step on his walk to the Pembroke. He’d dreaded the spectre of discovery, of McCullum’s rage, of the fragile alliance between them crumbling. He’d blamed himself so much for his indiscretion that he’d barely been able to enjoy it. And now … now it turned out that McCullum not only didn’t seem to mind much, he actually welcomed Jonathan’s attention.

So maybe Jonathan wasn’t quite the moral man he’d hoped to be, but maybe McCullum didn’t particularly care. And since Geoffrey McCullum had absolutely no restraint when it came to trying to kill Jonathan for his sins, Jonathan decided to consider tonight something like absolution.


End file.
